


But you're not

by SirSirWolficus



Category: Sam & Max
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Haha only a little bit, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Max Fucking Cries, Mutual Pining, Repressed Memories, also me: never fucking makes them real until at least two weeks later, and a pinch of domestic fluff, and therefore so are the boys, based on the 305 ending, cackles, fluff but like... sam and max kind of fluff, hey you know a fun fact??? rabbits have a tendency to hide their own pain, im gay, it says major character death dont worry its temporary oh my gosh, make them talk about their feelings cowards!!!!, me: has a lot of ideas, most of these tags are irrelevant in chapter one sorry boys, please check out my tumblr uhh i post sam and max. i have a game idea on there, procrastinates my other projects by writing this, snaps my own heart in two like it was a pencil, this is so very uncreative but honestly i do not care., timeline stuff you know how it is, who am i kidding im a sap. normal fluff too, wow is max a rabbit?? i never knew that, yeah lmao i got a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-13 18:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19256953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirSirWolficus/pseuds/SirSirWolficus
Summary: Everything was normal, well, as normal as it could get. The Commissioner calls, they go on some hair-raising violent adventure, get home and spend time together. It was how it worked for years; why should it stop now?Except for a few.. Anomalies.Sure, Max had always forgot about a lot of things. Too many things, for most people, but it never bothered Sam. He knew it's just Max being Max, and had become something he was used to. But even so, there were still things that Max never forgot, and yet didn’t seem to know.(Based on the 305 ending from the telltale games)





	But you're not

**Author's Note:**

> me: hey i have an idea for a sam and max oneshot  
> also me: makes it multiple chapters
> 
> i have no idea how long this'll be
> 
> special thanks to the-mayor-of-the-internet on tumblr for beta-reading!! it was surprisingly hard to write for sam and she really helped me out!
> 
> long live the 69 works mark god that was glorious i'll forever miss it

Rain was pouring down over the city of New York, helicopters hustling through the sky and debris falling somewhere in the distance, loud enough that he could still hear the crash of stone hitting concrete. The rooftop was cold and unforgiving, unshielding to the hard rain of the night. He was shivering, heart near beating out of his chest, as he stood and looked up towards his partner, his best friend, his lifeblood.

Sam had been turned into a horrifying beast about a week ago, and this was supposed to be it. Max was supposed to stand and wait for Sam to turn back to normal, or _something_ , and they could continue with life as it were. But what could he say?

 

_"I know this is gonna be hard to hear, little buddy." Sam's conscious had said, patting him between the ears in a comforting gesture. "But there's no way around it."_

 

Life wasn't fair.

 

_"I need you to kill me."_

_"I can't do that, Sam." Max had whimpered, face contorted in an unusual expression of terror. "You're- I'm_ nothing _without you. We can- we can fix this!"_

_"I don't think we can," Mind-Sam had said. "I can't control myself anymore. It's for the sake of the city, Max."_

_"Who cares about the city!?" He had yelled, arms thrown up in the air. "What matters is_ you! _"_

 

It was the worst day of his life.

But he couldn't say no to Sam, especially not now- because he had a point. Not that Max would ever admit it.

What hurts most, he thinks, is that he didn't even see Sam to the end. After wrangling with that weird brain tumour making him go blood-hungry, Sam managed to teleport himself out of the city, somewhere far off into the night sky, before Max hit the switch to end it.

He didn't even see it happen. No grandiose explosion, just a small light in the far-off distance, and then nothing. He stood on that rooftop for hours.

* * *

A large roll of thunder woke Max up, sitting up stock straight, chest heaving like a common scared rabbit. His fists clenched the bedding around him, his eyes darting around the now-familiar living space as he tried to find _something_ to get his mind off of what he just saw, something close to remind him that _it didn't happen, not really,_ and that he was _okay._ He ended up just staring out the window at the thunderstorm crawling by, silent lightning lighting up the dark clouds. He used to not care about thunderstorms when they happened, but now whenever he hears thunder he can only think of the roars of the elder-god-Sam, and with every flash of lightning it's like seeing his partner get destroyed in the exosphere again.

Max shook his head and held his ears down, willing the rain to dissipate so he could go back to more fitful sleep when a loud snore rumbled beneath him. Swinging his head over the side of the bunkbeds, he saw Sam spread out across the small bed, with tongue lolling out of his mouth as his foot twitched in his sleep.

Max sat there, watching him sleep for a, probably, creepy amount of time. It felt a bit strange, leaning over the edge of a bunkbed in order to see his partner, when for the last two years he had slept in the same bed as him.

 

_"A bunkbed?" Max asked, confused as he walked into their personal quarters of the office for the first time. This was supposed to be a near-exact parallel to before, so where was the queen bed?_

_"Yeah. What's so weird about that? We've always had a bunk." Sam looked back at him, a bit worried. Max took his sudden anxiety and shoved it far, far down inside him._

_"Nothin', Sam. Just surprised that you got an old rackety one instead of a better bed." Max grinned widely at him, before trotting over and throwing himself on the top bunk. And if he noticed Sam hesitate to fall asleep, he didn't say anything about it._

 

Something cold settled deep within Max's stomach, something he refused to acknowledge or think about. After a few more quiet moments while the thunderstorm pelted at their windows, and Sam's snores rattled the frame of the bunkbed, Max fiddled with his left hand, thinking back to when he had first shown up. Fresh out of terrifying everyone he knew and burning every bridge he could, desperate to just see Sam again, alive and okay. He didn't know how to react, except for nonchalance and a morbid attempt at humour. He wasn't ready for Sam to pick him up, and hold him against his chest, but the fast beating of Sam's heart against his face was something he welcomed.

He stopped fiddling with his hand as he felt something cold brush up against his fingers. He had forgotten about it- pushed it out of his mind so as to not ruin the continuation of the Freelance Police. Because it was apparent to him now, had been apparent since Max had pulled Sam down by his tie the second day they were together and Sam didn’t immediately get the hint.

He silently slid down the ladder of the bunk, and went to leave but stopped. Behind him, Sam had started to mutter in his sleep, and Max’s ears pricked up at the incoherent words Sam’s unconsciousness was trying to string together. It was as if nothing happened, even though so much had. That’s what they were trying to do, ultimately; act as if nothing had happened. And Sam was always better at the more heart-felt side of things, but this time, it seemed the roles were reversed. Because here Max is, the one who forgets the human concept of emotion so regularly, being held down by the grief he’s trying to repress, while Sam remains the loyal mutt he always has been.

And it was hard honestly. It really was. Max wasn’t prepared to be the sentimental one, it wasn’t his job or his place. He was supposed to intimidate, goof around and cause chaos. But now, obviously…

Things change.

He trod over to his tiny, school desk and opened the top, peering down into his hellish collection of rubbish stored in there, mixed in with legal papers that he was supposed to have fill out but ended up having Sam do them instead. He was almost relieved that his stuff was all still there, except for a few knick-knacks that were gone, either from being lost in time or never existing in the first place.

Silently, he held his middle finger on his left. It was hard to do this, but he didn’t want Sam to find out, didn’t want to risk losing everything all over again. But looking over at the pictures lining the walls by Sam’s desk, he couldn’t help but notice one missing. A crucial photo that Sam would always get sappy over when he looked at it, opening up Max to making fun of him, and the verbal tussle they would always have that made them both feel a bit too gushy inside.

Ears laying lower than they’ve done in a long time, Max slipped off the silver band on his hand and let it drop into the disgusting mess inside his desk with a muted clatter, before closing it and walking back to where Sam slept.

It took a damn lot of self control to not crawl in between Sam and the wall, just to have the familiar overwhelming warmth envelope him again when he slept.

* * *

Everything was normal, well, as normal as it could get. The Commissioner calls, they go on some hair-raising violent adventure, get home and spend time together. It was how it worked for years; why should it stop now?

Except for a few.. Anomalies.

Sure, Max had always forgot about a lot of things. Too many things, for most people, but it never bothered Sam. He knew it's just Max being Max, and had become something he was used to. But even so, there were still things that Max _never_ forgot, and yet didn’t seem to know.

Like during one case when they were tied up together, back to back swinging precariously over a pit filled with very-much lethal things, as another villain cackled at their seeming-defeat. Sam had leaned his head slightly over to Max. “This reminds me of that case with Mack Salmon, where after another inexplicably complicated plot, was foiled by his being unable to actually tie a good sailor’s knot, and you chewed on his fish bowl until he gave up!”

The resemblance between the two cases were uncanny, but when Max had said “Who?” in response, grin unwavering, Sam had felt a tug of something dark inside of his gut, something gut wrenching which had him biting down on his cheek and turning away with a quiet ‘nevermind’.

It wasn’t only Sam who noticed this either- Max would, on the rare occasion, make a reference to some case they had never taken, or spoke about some villain they hadn’t met or completing a case that they hadn’t closed yet - though with Max’s apparent memories seemed like a simple case. One evening, Sam was trying to haphazardly defuse a set of bombs strapped to the infrastructure of some important building or other while Max held back goons to cover for him, and Max had yelled out “Kinda makes me wish the Geek was here to do the technical stuff for us!”

It made Sam look back at him, confused, just for a moment before the main bomb he was working on made a very worrying, and very loud, beeping noise and he didn’t even get the chance to ask who he was talking about. He could feel Max’s eyes on his back, however, and he didn’t dare dwell on the shocked expression he had worn.

Another time, Max was throwing in another piece of case memorabilia into his hoarder’s closet when he picked up a tiny, ragged ventriloquist doll, and looked at Sam in confusion and terror. “What the hell’s _this_ thing, Sam?”

“You don’t remember?” Sam asked from his desk, feeling as confused as Max looked. “It’s from our case with that ventriloquist nutcase. He wanted to take over the world using creepy puppets, and make the world his slave puppet show! Too bad he had no story or interesting characters, otherwise I may have stayed and watched it. You only wanted to light everything on fire, which while I do understand, I was not too keen on adding excessive property damage to our list of specialties.”

Max stared at the doll, his typically grin nearly gone as he contemplated something, an oddity for him, before tossing the thing back into the closet and slamming the door closed. “Eh. Must’ve forgot.” He shrugged, walking back to his desk and plopping down, picking up a stray knife and starting another carving of his name into the wood a little bit harsher than usual.

* * *

Sam didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t even want to _think_ about it. He knew things were different, and that they’d never go back to normal-- but it didn’t matter. Well, it wasn’t _supposed_ to matter, because they were together again, as God had intended it. But at night, he’d wake up to the sound of Max scampering out of bed and into the office, doing god-knows-what before coming back. If it really was important, Max would wake him up and bother him until he did something, but lately Max would always remain eerily silent. Sam couldn’t blame him, in all honesty, but it still rattled him that something was going on with Max and he had no idea how to fix it, how to even begin _thinking_ about it, because the truth was, it was never going to be the same. So he’d keep his eyes closed and face the wall, pretend to be fast asleep.

Max had always been a weird eccentric, or just plain weird, and Sam knew that. It’s what really helped them become as close as they are. But it’s been a month now after Sam had watched him die, and then miraculously come “back from the past”. Sam had silently been keeping a small tally of every out-of-character thing he had been doing, and keeping it bundled up deep inside him, trying to see if there was some connection between them, some kid of reason he was acting the way he was- and there is, as small as it is. Max had started doing weird actions, only when he thought Sam wasn’t aware of them.

Among the weird actions were the sudden middle-of-the-night journeys into the office, but what really played on Sam's mind was that Max had gotten into the habit of staring at him with a blank face. At home, in the office, on a case - whenever Max thought Sam couldn't see before turning back before. Part of Sam wishes he’d quit it.

On days off, when they were just huddled together watching some show about toddler drag stars, sometimes Max would lean in just a bit closer than usual, causing a nervous but all too unpleasant flutter inside his chest. The first time it happened, Sam had let out a curious “Max?” and he had backed off, saying that he was ‘practically falling asleep due to this garbage’ during one of his favourite movies, which was all kinds of levels of wrong, and it didn’t sit well with Sam.

There was an empty spot on the wall in the office that, on rare occasions, he would catch Max just staring at it, an unreadable expression on his face, and Sam would always ask if something was wrong. Max would always shake his head, that trademark sinister smile of his returning before he uttered some kind of smart-ass quip before continuing with what he was doing to begin with.

It really hit him one night, the one-month anniversary of Max becoming a giant tentacle demon- not that he was counting. He had already been having trouble sleeping, afraid that when he woke up Max would be gone again. He felt childish, like he was eight-years old again. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of a Max-shaped void in his life, out of his mind. His train of thought was broken when he heard a startled gasp and old springs creaking in the bed above him. Loud breathing echoed in the quiet room around him, and yet he couldn’t make himself move, not wanting to let Max know he was awake, lest it upset him further. It was a few minutes before there was more creaking, and Max jumped off of the top bunk, hitting the floor with a soft thud. Except this time, he didn’t turn towards the office and disappear, he turned and made eye contact with Sam, watching him with a panicked expression and chest still heaving. Sam sat there, frozen; it had been years since Max last had some kind of nightmare, not since they were kids, and he was completely unprepared on how to console him.

That’s the worst part, Sam conceded, was knowing that Max wasn’t coming to him about what was on his mind, and that had been bothering him since he came back. Sam knew Max wasn’t the emotional type of guy, but it never stopped him from spouting out his opinions on things, whether it was wanted or not. Sam cared for him, deeply and truly, but they were both people who didn’t know how to talk about things that bothered them, and didn’t know how to comfort each other aside from slight physical affection.

Max, however, already knew what he wanted, _to just have some semblance of what he had before_ , and wasted no time in clambering into Sam’s bed and nestling himself in the blankets between Sam and the wall. His body was turned inward, and Sam could see how Max had scrunched up his eyes to keep them firmly shut. He sat there, unknowing what to do- heart _racing_ \- before laying a hand on Max’s head and gently asking, “Did you have a bad dream?”

“Can it, ya big lug, I’m tryin’a sleep.” Max snapped, curling himself up into a ball as usual. It was a mystery of his; he always fell asleep in a tiny little ball, before spreading out his limbs every which-way and knocking his pillow to the ground. Max made no move to try and get out of the position he was in, however. Sam sighed, lying back down and giving Max some space. He felt an uncomfortable tension fill the air, and vivid emotions tumble through his chest as his small partner seemed to fall back asleep. He wanted to tug Max close, hold him against his chest and be able to feel his feeble little heartbeat through his own chest, and really know that he was _okay_ , and not going anywhere. He wanted to pet his head and be made fun of for being such a sap but have Max not even try to wiggle out of it.

Sam decided to just turn around, back facing Max, and shut his eyes to sleep.

It was quiet for a long time, wind and cars sailing by outside the only noise to accompany him. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard Max quietly speak up, “Hey, Sam?”

Sam’s hand twitched, unsure if he should turn around and actually face Max. Before he could make a decision, he continued, “Why’s everything so different?”

A cold realization went through him as he realized that Max was talking to Sam- _his_ Sam. “I mean, I thought we were happy back at our old place. But ya had to go and blow up, huh?” He heard some shuffling behind him. “Here, you’re not even…” Max sighed, a tinge of something sad making its way into it. “I thought it’d all be the same, but I guess we aren’t that lucky.” A short silence fell, some otherworldly chill giving Sam goosebumps. “I love ya, ya doof.”

His heart heaved as he digested the words. Was that to _him_ , or some other _version_ of him? Was there that much of a difference? There had to be, if he was so different to Max to cause such a revelation. Aside from that, though, did he really mean those words? Did he fully understand the heaviness of what he just said? Was he even still _awake?_

Breath hitching, Sam opened his eyes and peered over his shoulder, just to see Max facing the wall.

* * *

“I just don’t know what to do, Sybil.” Sam said, frustrated, much too open in such a confined space. He was sitting on Sybil’s couch, hat beside him as he rubbed at his face with a hand, stomach doing somersaults as he spoke. Sybil sat, patiently listening as she sipped at some tea. “It's killing me that he isn't saying anything at all. Usually he’s so… arrogant. He used to have his trap open so much I’d have to warn him about swallowing more flies.”

“Well, maybe if you bring up how you’re feeling about the whole situation, it’d cause Max to open up as well.” She leaned forward onto her desk, hands laced together.

“Very funny, Sybil.” Sam grumbled out, leaning back heavier into the couch.

“I was being serious.” She said, eyes narrowing a small amount. “You two are obviously struggling, and the only way to really fix that is to talk about it.”

Sam let out a huff as he crossed his arms. “Me and Max aren’t really the ‘talky feely’ types of people.”

“Oh, that’s crap!” She exclaimed, raising a hand in the air in frustration. “I saw how you got when Max was a monster, and I only heard about the way you acted when Skun-Ka’pe stole his brain. Wow, that was a weird sentence.” She mumbled the last part to herself as the short realization hit her. “Anyway, my point is, you two certainly _are_ ‘the feely types of people’, whether you like it or not. Now you just have to _talk_ about it!”

“What makes you so sure Max is, huh? When he first saw your baby, he didn’t stop fake-gagging for the whole three hours.”

“That was fake?” Sybil asked, suddenly sidetracked.

“Faker than Padma McCord. He just wanted to go home and get destructive inspiration from MythBusters.”

“ _Ooh, that_ \- you know what? We’re getting off topic.” Sybil rubbed at one of her temples as Sam just gave a cheeky grin from beside her. “Sam, I would think it was obvious that deep down in his dark pit of a soul, I mean _really_ deep down, he cares about you, and honestly, I think he _only_ cares about _you_. Okay, senseless destruction too, but mainly you.”

A deep and uncomfortable feeling started to swirl in deep in his stomach, but there was something brighter there as well, something Sam tried to stamp down immediately. “And how do _you_ figure that?”

“Why else would he move to a different dimensions for you?”

Sam plastered on a fake smile and looked back to Sybil, trying to derail the conversation from the turn it was taking. “Gee, Sybil, it’s a wonder you quit being a therapist, despite having no real diploma you’re really good at it!” _Really good at making a guy uncomfortable, and maybe perhaps even a little extremely conflicted about his own feelings towards someone he’s known his whole life._

“Flattery isn’t getting you out of this conversation, fido.” She looked unimpressed, maybe a bit miffed at the jab to her online credentials. Sam rolled his eyes at the jab she slipped in. “Sam, what’s _really_ holding you back from confronting this?” Sybil leaned forward, that curious glint in her eye unsettling Sam.

“It’s.. uh…” _I don’t want to lose him again, and have it be entirely my fault. I don’t want to talk to him, and realize something that I shouldn’t have._ Sam coughed. “..been awhile since we last had a heart-to-heart.”

“When _exactly_ was the last time you _did_?”

* * *

It had been a long time ago. Back in their second year of highschool, or was it their third? Anyway, it was before they graduated, that's for sure. Max had unexpectedly crawled in through his bedroom window on the second floor, and Sam definitely hadn’t screamed, before agreeing to let him spend the night. It was a few hours past midnight, school waiting for them in the morning, and yet they were still up, Sam futilely trying to teach Max how to play poker. It would go much smoother if Max would stop constantly betting all of his fake chips, or eating them. It was somewhere in the middle of their first round of Sam not actively helping Max, where he spoke up.

“Hey, Max?” Sam had asked, looking up from his cards to his best friends face. “Why do you come over here so often?”

“Whaddaya mean, Sam?” Max asked, grin ever-present as he slid all the bottle caps acting as chips into the center of their game. Sam rolled his eyes as he pushed back most of them towards Max.

“You’re always crawling in through my window at random hours with no warning. I’ve never done that to you.”

“Well, you’ve been to my house!”

“Yes, but I’ve done my best to repress that in the most unhealthy way.”

“Royal flush!” Max suddenly shouted, throwing down a hand of random cards that, in no way, were a royal flush.

“That’s not a royal flush, Max.” Sam said in a lighthearted tone, moving to give Max another hand to play with.

“Of course it is! You’re just not playing by the right rules.” Max snarked back, arms crossed.

“Yeah? And what rules are those?” Sam goaded.

“ _My_ rules.” Max sneered at him, looking up at Sam as if he were planning Sam’s own torturous death. Which, of course, made Sam laugh.

“Poker doesn’t really work that way, Max.” He chuckled, giving Max a gentle shove and a new hand. Max scoffed, muttering something about how it should under his breath, and trying his best to actually focus on the rules Sam had stated earlier and had completely forgotten about.

They played like that in silence Sam looking through his own cards before Max spoke up. “Basically all of my family are involved with some kind of criminal activity or other.” Sam looked up, surprised, and saw Max resolutely staring at his own hand. “‘Cause of that, it isn’t always so… _pleasant_ to hang around home.”

“Max…” Sam started, face betraying the growing concern he was feeling.

“I know what I am.” He sniffed, nose scrunching up and a short look of disgust appearing over his face, staring down at his cards. “I just don’t wanna end up like them. ‘Cause then…  then you’d stop… hanging out with me.” At that, his ears drooped down behind his head, and his hands lowered enough that Sam would be able to see his cards, if he were looking, which he wasn’t, at least he wasn’t _trying_ to.

Sam put down his own hand, and shuffled over so he sat next to Max, slinging an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in for an awkard side-hug as he let out another sniffle. “Max, that’d never happen.”

“God, look at me! I’m being such- such a girl!” He threw his hands up in the air, still glaring down at his deck. “This is so dumb.” He grumbled, wiping the held-back tears away from his eyes with an arm.

A heavy silence fell over the two as Max leaned into Sam, the soft sound of rain pattering against the window as a storm rolled over. Quietly, as if afraid to break the silence, Sam said, “I’m glad you told me.” Max slowly looked up towards Sam, a rash mix of emotions on his face, and the stark difference between his usual demeanor and now sent a sad spike into Sam. It was as if something gritty had grabbed onto his heart and squeezed. “You’re not being dumb for feeling like that. It’s a hard situation. But you should know that no matter what, I’m gonna be by your side, little buddy.”

* * *

It was a late night at an old, run-down diner that Max had spotted on the side of the road as the two of them raced down the street on a new case from the commissioner. Something was happening in the state over, and he had wanted them to check it out, with their guns loaded and usual destructive tendencies. So far, Sam had been poking at a questionable BLT, while Max was standing on his feet, hunched over the table like a gremlin and shoving whatever food he had gotten into his gullet. It made Sam’s chest swirl with adoration. He cleared his throat, shoving _that_ thought to the side as he tried to get his partner’s attention. “Hey, Max?”

Max looked up with a garbled noise that could be attributed to some sort of horrific goat-human-hybrid, food still actively being shoved into his face. As Sam stayed silent, almost uncomfortable, he stopped shovelling it into his face, in a strange show of respect.

“You know that we’ve… been friends for a long time.” Sam started, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck, refusing to look at the lagomorph in front of him. Max’s heart started to pound in his chest whilst the remnants of god knows what dribbled from his open mouth.

Max tried to say something in the affirmative, but it mostly came out as a gurgle of a noise in the back of his throat. Somehow, Sam perfectly understood this.

“And you know that you can.. _talk_.. to me about anything, right?” Sam forced out, tone uncomfortable and hand rapping against the table, still resolutely looking away.

Swallowing the ungodly amount of food in his open mouth, Max looked at him incredulously. “Where’s this sappy stuff coming from, Sam?”

Sam shrugged, finally looking back to his partner. “You just seem troubled about something, little buddy.”

After he said that, Sam noticed a barely concealed look on Max’s face; disappointment. To anyone else, it would’ve just seemed like his constant grin, but Sam can read the layers to his face by now, and just below the hard surface was something else Sam couldn’t really put his finger on. Max was disappointed by something, and he was holding it back. Instead of saying anything, Sam just let Max laugh at him and say, “Why would anything be bothering me, Sam?”

“I don’t know, little buddy,” he said, motioning for the waiter to come over with the check. “I don’t know.”

**Author's Note:**

> wow there you have it. please follow me on tumblr at sirwolficus!! i also have an ig where i dont post as much but i still post (under the same name) and uhh yeah. i was listening to the game ost while writing this so please listen to it its so good??? who let it be this good??


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